The Disguised Heiress And Her Obsessive Tycoon
I joined a brutal wilderness survival reality show, playing the perfect role of a pathetic, uneducated girl from a trailer park.
I needed the five million dollar prize to fund my revenge against the wealthy family that drove my father to his death.
I played everyone flawlessly. I outsmarted the arrogant contestants, ruined a corrupt restaurant owner, and secured enough food to guarantee my absolute victory.
But just as I was dominating the game, a massive black helicopter landed in our camp.
The show's new billionaire sponsor had arrived, and he immediately ordered his tactical guards to confiscate every ounce of food I had earned.
My hard-won advantage was wiped out in seconds. The other contestants cheered, pointing at my empty hands.
"Take that, you greedy bitch!"
But the real nightmare wasn't the stolen food or the sudden rule change. It was the man who stepped out of the chopper.
Glenn Ryan. The ruthless CEO from my past life as an elite heiress.
He took off his sunglasses, his dark eyes locking onto my muddy shoes and frayed flannel shirt with a terrifying, obsessive smirk.
Why was he here? Why did he instantly target me the moment I started winning?
He didn't just know my true identity.
He had bought this entire game just to hunt me down.
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Chapter 4
The smell of hot grease and cooking protein hit the camp like a physical blow.
Anabelle sat cross-legged next to the fire pit. She had found a rusted, discarded tin can near the highway, scrubbed it clean with sand, and was now using it as a makeshift frying pan over the open flames.
She cracked two fresh eggs against a rock. The yolks hit the hot metal with a loud, aggressive sizzle.
The rich scent of frying eggs drifted directly into the wind, sweeping over the five cots.
Stomachs growled in unison. The other contestants looked like walking corpses.
Kody swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. He quickly ran a hand through his hair, pasting on a wide, friendly grin. He walked over to the fire pit, squatting down right next to Anabelle.
"Wow, Annie," Kody said, his voice dripping with fake charm. "You really saved our lives. That smells amazing. We make a great team, right?"
Anabelle didn't look up. She kept her eyes fixed on the bubbling egg whites, using a thin green twig to carefully separate the edges from the tin. She let him talk.
Kody's smile faltered when she didn't respond. His eyes darted to the cooked edge of the egg. His stomach let out a loud rumble. He reached his hand out, his fingers inching toward the hot tin.
Smack.
Anabelle whipped the twig through the air, bringing it down hard across the back of Kody's hand.
The sharp crack echoed through the quiet camp.
Kody yanked his hand back, his face twisting in pain. He cradled his stinging knuckles against his chest.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Kody screamed, his friendly mask shattering. "Are you trying to hoard it all for yourself?"
Anabelle slowly lifted her head. Her eyes were completely devoid of emotion. She looked at him the way a person looks at a stain on the sidewalk.
"Pay me," she said. Two words. Ice cold.
Kody let out a harsh, barking laugh. He pointed at the drone hovering above them. "We are a team! We're supposed to help each other! You're being selfish!"
Camila sat up on her cot, wrapping her arms around herself. "He's right, Anabelle. We're all starving. It's really mean to eat in front of us."
Anabelle stood up. She wiped her hands on her jeans.
"Let's do the math," Anabelle said, her voice projecting clearly over the crackle of the fire. "Market value of two organic eggs: one dollar. Labor cost for a ten-mile round trip on foot: twenty dollars. Technical surcharge for wilderness fire-starting and sanitation: twenty-nine dollars."
She looked dead into Kody's eyes.
"The price is fifty dollars for one egg. I don't do credit."
The camp fell dead silent.
"You're out of your damn mind!" Kody roared, kicking a cloud of dirt into the fire. "You're extorting us!"
"It's basic supply and demand," Anabelle replied smoothly, her thumb rubbing her index knuckle. "I hold the monopoly on food. You hold the demand. Pay the premium, or starve."
In the live chat, viewers were losing their minds. The brutal, unapologetic capitalism coming from a girl in a frayed flannel shirt was intoxicating. They mocked Kody relentlessly.
Kody's face turned a deep, ugly purple. The humiliation burned in his chest. He spun around, kicking a large rock near the fire pit.
"You're going to lose!" Kody spat at her. "Nobody is going to help you when you fail!" He stormed off toward the edge of the woods.
Camila quickly pulled her hand back, realizing the beggar routine wouldn't work. She lay back down, turning her face away from the smell.
Diego sat on his cot, his dark sunglasses hiding his eyes. He tilted his head, watching Anabelle with a new, sharp intensity.
Anabelle sat back down. She ate the eggs slowly, methodically, making sure not to drop a single crumb.
When she was finished, she carefully wrapped the remaining two eggs in a piece of plastic she had saved, burying them deep in her backpack. She pulled out the free tube of high-end toothpaste and walked toward the small creek to wash up.
Behind a thick oak tree, Kody watched her walk away. His chest heaved with angry breaths. He motioned for Camila to come over.
"She didn't buy that stuff," Kody whispered, his eyes narrowed into slits. "She stole it from the production crew's tent. If we get close to her, we'll get disqualified too."
Down by the creek, Anabelle saw Kody's reflection in the water. She saw him whispering. She saw Camila nodding.
Anabelle spit the white foam into the dirt. A cold, sharp smile touched her lips. Let them isolate her. A wolf hunts best alone.
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8.9
Aliana braved a heavy storm, carrying a warm stew for her fiancé, Ivan, just as she always put his needs before her own. This ingrained habit, a survival mechanism from a cold childhood, was about to shatter into a million pieces. Tonight, everything she believed was a lie.
The iron gates of Ivan's private villa flashed red, denying her entry, and a guard mumbled lies. Ignoring him, she pushed past, a strange orchid perfume leading her to Ivan's car, where a tube of crimson lipstick lay on the passenger seat. Through a window, she saw him with another woman and a small child, an image that felt like jagged glass twisting in her heart.
Then his words cut through the storm, cold and cruel:
"Aliana is just a placeholder."
He was marrying her for her multi-billion-dollar patent, a secret deal made with her own parents, who had sold her for a kickback to buy this very house. Her family, her love, her future-all were a calculated lie.
Her inner wolf, usually fierce, fell terrifyingly silent, replaced by a chilling resolve. The burning acid in her throat wasn't just bile; it was the taste of her shattered devotion.
She didn't want his apologies or his guilt. She wanted his ruin, and as Ivan walked in with a fake smile the next morning, Aliana was ready to deliver it.
7.8
Elie Joyce’s entire life was controlled by Ebert Ewing, a ruthless billionaire who held her sick grandmother's survival and her family's freedom in his hands.
But on a freezing, stormy night, he forced her into a scandalous scrap of red silk and handed her over to a notorious, disgusting predator.
"You aren't an escort. You're just a free gift."
Ebert mocked her, using her as a disposable bargaining chip to secure a corporate funding round.
When the predator humiliated her, forced high-proof vodka down her throat, and violently pinned her to the floor, Ebert simply watched with dead eyes.
And when Ebert finally intervened to brutally beat the man, it wasn't out of mercy.
"She is my property. Even if she is trash that I threw away, a filthy pig like you doesn't get to touch her."
Afterward, he dragged her battered, barefoot body into his car, only to kick her out into the torrential rain, leaving her on the dark streets to die.
Standing in the storm, shivering and bleeding from broken glass, the last shred of Elie's hope shattered.
She had sacrificed her dignity and soul, enduring his violent bites and cruel control, just to keep her family alive.
Why did she have to suffer this endless, twisted humiliation for a psychopath who only saw her as trash?
But she didn't break.
Tearing a strip of his expensive shirt to bandage her bleeding foot, Elie gripped her broken stiletto like a knife.
With her eyes turning cold and calculating, she limped out of the shadows.
She was going to survive, and Ebert Ewing would soon realize she was no longer his obedient prey.
8.3
EDEN
8.3
Elianila, an AI Architect, is part of an elite team tasked with designing a global system meant to prevent threats, manage disasters, and distribute resources to vulnerable regions. After five years of tireless work with her colleagues, she uncovers disturbing anomalies, code-named, X-variables, that flag individuals according to criteria she never programmed.
As Elianila digs deeper to understand what the X-variables measure and where their origin, she finds herself in direct conflict with the authorities. Soon, the System marks her and her daughter as threats - targets to be eliminated.
With a small band of colleagues and dissidents, Elianila goes on the run, hiding in places beyond the Systems reach. As they evade surveillance, they race against time to warn others, expose the truth, and fight back against the omnipresent authority of the System.
8.7
For eighteen years, I lived as the lowest Omega in the Silver Moon Pack, surviving only because Alpha Gideon took me under his wing.
But the moment his coffin was lowered into the ground, his wife and the new Alpha son immediately turned on me.
"Her presence has brought a curse upon us!"
Luna Lyra pointed a trembling finger at me in the freezing rain, blaming me for Gideon's sudden death.
She stripped me of my pack ties and permanently exiled me into the deadly wilderness with nothing but a wooden toy.
The entire pack watched with cold contempt as I was thrown out like garbage.
To make matters worse, the new Alpha later hunted me down in the woods, threatening to kill me just to steal the only thing Gideon had secretly left behind for me—an ancient, unreadable book.
I didn't understand why they hated me so deeply, or what terrifying secret this blank book held that made my own pack want me dead.
But the moment my foot crossed the pack boundary, an ancient, immense power I never knew I had snapped free inside my veins.
I was no longer their weak Omega.
And when I escaped deeper into the forest and crashed straight into the arms of a wounded Rogue, my destiny completely rewrote itself.
Because he wasn't just a Rogue, but the legendary Northern Alpha King.
And as his glowing golden eyes locked onto mine, our inner wolves roared the exact same word:
"Mate!"
7.4
Clara Davis was trained to seduce, deceive, and destroy.
Her mission is simple: infiltrate billionaire Jeffery Rothwell's life, gain his trust, and help seize his empire in exchange for the freedom she has always craved.
But the deeper she slips into his dangerous world, the more the lines between mission and desire begin to blur. Falling for him was never part of the plan and neither was discovering that the man she was sent to manipulate may not be the real Jeffery at all.
Now trapped in a deadly web of obsession, power, and hidden identities. Clara is caught between the organization that owns her, the monster who remade her, and a love that has turned into vengeance. Clara must survive a man who sees everything, controls everything, and may be far more dangerous than the organization that created her.
Because in this game of seduction and revenge, love might be the deadliest trap of all.
7.2
I am a top-tier Alpha from another universe, but a spatial jump error dropped me straight into a high-security military isolation chamber.
Right in front of me was a terrifying, silver-haired wolf-beastman Admiral, completely losing his mind to a lethal biological heat cycle.
To survive in this strange dimension where my powers were restricted, I had to pretend to be a helpless, terrified girl.
Surprisingly, my mere presence and scent instantly cured his incurable madness.
But this backfired horribly. He became obsessively possessive, treating me like a fragile, priceless treasure.
When I managed to sneak out to the city's lawless slums to gather intel and accidentally saved a dying panther boy, the Admiral went completely feral.
He brought an entire war fleet, blotting out the sky, just to "rescue" me.
He nearly slaughtered the boy out of blind jealousy, forcing me to throw myself into his arms and cry fake tears to stop the bloodshed.
"I'm taking you home. No one will ever hurt you again."
He brought me to his flagship's secret medical bay and ordered the Empire's chief doctor to run a full genetic classification test on me.
I panicked. If they discovered my true identity as an off-world Alpha, I would be dissected or executed.
I immediately commanded my AI system to fake my blood data, aiming for a perfectly average, forgettable Omega result.
But as the machine processed my blood, the alarms blared, and the system overloaded.
The old doctor fell to his knees in absolute worship, and the terrifying Admiral looked at me with wild, starving eyes.
My system had overcompensated. I wasn't registered as average. I was just classified as the only SSSSS-grade Omega in the history of the universe.